


Syd Vicious

by negansdirtygirl22



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Gore, Drug Addiction, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Gangs, Murder, Negan POV, Slow Burn, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Vigilante Negan, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-12 20:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16002704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/negansdirtygirl22/pseuds/negansdirtygirl22
Summary: After the brutal murder of his wife, Negan stalks the streets seeking payment in the form of blood. A fateful encounter with a murderous ally and the deal of a lifetime will unleash his vengeance to its full potential.





	1. The New Girl

This place makes me sick, but I can’t stay away. I feel too responsible when bad shit happens and I’m not around to stop it. It’s the third time this week that I find myself here, blood splattered on my leather jacket and gloves. The festering smell of musty piss and pollution lingers in the air with the occasional hint of vomit and blood mixed in. I guess it’s true—only the strong survive in The Bronx. 

I wipe the blood from my knife onto my victims filthy pants; his body lies limp against the brick wall in the dank alley. What a piece of shit. I lunge my boot into his mutilated corpse one last time, flinging chunks of coagulated blood up into the air from my brutal force that lands on the concrete with a sickening splat. Whoever finds this son of a bitch can deal with it. My job here is done.

Before heading home, I check on the girls and make sure that no one else has stepped out of line and has to meet the same fate as fuck-face back there. They’re still posed in their lineup in various stages of undress. Eagerly awaiting their next meal ticket in exchange for a little suck-and-fuck.

“I dealt with that sick fuck in the alleyway. Stay away from there, all of you. At least until the body gets cleared out.” 

“Thanks, Negan.” Sherry saunters over to me, seductively placing her hand on my chest. I’m quick to remove it. I’m not here for that tonight or any other night. Not from them. 

“Let us thank you... properly,” Amber offers, grabbing my crotch as her lips ghost over my neck. No fucking thank you. I know where that mouth has been.

“Back the fuck off, Amber. I didn’t come here for that shit.” I swat her hand away from my dick with a repulsed look on my face. That girl couldn’t give me half a chub if she tried. 

“You’re always so mean!” She storms off crying like some bratty child. Sherry glares at me, mouthing ‘what the fuck’, like I’m the asshole here. I throw my hands up in the air. I can’t believe this bullshit.

“I’m always mean?! Are you fucking kidding me with that shit? Did I not just take out that fuck that left Frankie for dead? Un-fucking-real. Think before you fucking speak!” I shout so every last hooker can hear. They all look at me stunned. That’s right—don’t fuck with Negan. Now they’ll know I’m not putting up with that horse shit. I’m out of here. Ungrateful broads. 

On my walk home, I pass all the scum that inhabit these streets—burglars, drug dealers, and hookers galore. Gangs run these streets. In particular, the Skulls. I intend to take them out, one by one, for what they took from me. That shit stain laying in the alley was only a bottom feeder, but I’m slowly working my way up to the top. I won’t stop until the streets run red with their blood.

Hunters Point is a buffet of crime and prostitution with Fox Street being the central hub of depraved activity. Its industrial landscape serves as the perfect backdrop for its grimy hosts. So when another dead body turns up in an alley or abandoned warehouse, no one even bats an eye. It’s just another day. The cops come in, take the body, and go. There’s hardly an investigation and no witnesses to question, which is all the better for me to come in and take out the garbage, unnoticed.

I didn’t always have this lust for violence and revenge. After my wife died, something in me snapped. This is who I’ve become, like it or not. I won't kill indiscriminately—you have to earn that shit from me. Rapists are my personal favorite, though I’ve killed for less, if it was worthy. If I could mount all of their heads on my wall like game trophies I would abso-fucking-lutely do it. Each one of them deserved what they got.

It takes me well over an hour to get back to Brooklyn. I take the train and walk the rest of the way. I’m not stupid enough to ride into hell just to have my bike lifted. No, where I live is nothing like that shit-hole. Looking at my brownstone, you’d have no clue that someone like me lives there. My neighborhood looks like it was cut from some uppity lifestyle magazine; its picture perfect snapshots of nuclear families printed on glossy pages. I stick out like a sore fucking thumb. Truthfully, I’m no better than the fuckery that goes down under the dark cover of the alleyways in Hunters Point. I only live here because it’s close to my job, and getting rid of it would make me feel like an even bigger piece of shit than I already do. It’s the last thing I have that was hers, so I suck it up and stay.

Outside of my nocturnal vendetta, I’m just an ordinary fuck. I wake up, shit, go to work, come home, fire one off, and go to sleep. It’s fucking depressing. The only time I feel alive anymore is when I’m slashing the the ever-living fuck out of assholes who won’t be missed, and even then, it’s fleeting.

My alarm goes off. Fuck me, I'm in no mood to start the day. I’m sore and exhausted from the lack of sleep. Releasing a guttural groan, I reluctantly get up and prepare for the tedium of my day. The private school I work for is decent enough. I coach baseball, get an office to myself, and administration stays out of my shit. I can’t complain. Plus, I have access to some heavy duty cleaning supplies that come in handy a few times a week for my extracurricular activities. I figure with this job and my home, if shit ever hits the fan, they serve to keep up appearances. 

I go through the motions at work. I’m physically here, but my mind is meticulously plotting elsewhere. I’m Coach Negan to these teen pricks. They have great respect for me that I can’t comprehend, but god damn does it feel good. Coaching is the only part of my life that tethers me back to reality. Reminds me that I’m still worth a damn. To some of these kids, I’m their only support system, like a father figure they look to for guidance. If they only knew how dark and mislead I really am. Would they still view me the same? I don’t even know how I view myself anymore. The duality is beginning to blur into one fucked up mutated version of myself. The bell rings, startling me back into alertness. Another day over and done. Another night ready to begin. I peel out of the parking lot and head home to prepare for another night of carnage. 

She’s new. I can tell by the way she stands; her posture is too rigid. She’s also lacking the bruises and tears in her tights. Even her makeup is pristine and unmarred. I wonder if she’s one of Dwight’s girls. He’s about the worst pimp I have ever met. No balls on that guy. The girls basically run themselves and give him his cut when he comes around to collect. Secretly, I think he’s only there to be close to Sherry. What an idiot, falling in love with a hooker.

I’m bothered by the new girl’s presence/ It’s almost ominous. Both her obvious inexperience and her exceptional beauty make her an easy target. I nod my head and smile at her as I walk past. She turns her face away from me like I disgust her. Fuck you too, bitch. Pretty soon she’ll have more than just that stick up her ass. I walk past the girls and do my usual patrol around the block. It’s oddly quiet tonight, and I’m overly eager to get this shit rolling. I’ve become insatiable. After hours of inactivity, I’m about to call it quits when I hear a shrill scream echo through the stale air. I stalk my way toward it, like a stealthy predator after its prey. Jackpot, motherfucker. 

This suited up fuck has the new girl pressed up against the stone wall, one hand gripped tightly around her neck, the other between her thighs. His pants hang loosely around his ankles. Blood drips down her cheek, mixing with the mascara stained tears. He knocked her around pretty good. Now, I’ve walked in on some kinky shit before, but this was far from that. The panicked look in her eyes, the veins on her forehead bulging out from his strangling hold, tell me everything I needed to know. I creep up behind him, hook my arm around his neck and press the tip of my knife firmly against his sweat slicked throat.

“Let her go,” I growl through gritted teeth. The new girl looks up at me wide eyed while the hand wrapped around her neck tightens slightly. 

“She’s a dirty fucking whore. Who gives a shit?” He spits out, voice strained from the headlock I have him in, but he doesn’t budge. Guess I have to be more... invasive. 

“I do, you filthy fuck.” I stab him through his neck until my knife sticks out the other end. Rivulets of blood run down the point of my blade. I wish I could see the shocked look on his face from where I stand behind him. His grip on her loosens and she falls to the ground. She tries to catch her breath, taking loud, gasping inhales. Meanwhile Suits is in shock. He’s gone full catatonic on me. Typical pussy, won’t even try fighting back. Not that it would do him any good at this point. I pull my knife out in a swift yank. He’s a squirter! Now, that shit is awesome! His pathetic body collapses as blood spurts from the open gash in his neck. His hands fumble, failing to stop the fatal bleeding. He starts to gurgle, slowly aspirating on his own blood. I kick him out of the way to reach my hand out for the girl. 

“Come on, I’ll take you to Sherry and the girls. They’ll get you patched up.” 

She’s paralyzed, staring at Suits’ convulsing body in disbelief. 

“Welcome to Fox Street, doll. You better get used to this shit or get the fuck out.” 

“You... you stupid asshole! You ruined everything!” She stands up and begins to pace anxiously.

“What the fuck!? I just saved your ass!” Not this ungrateful bullshit again. 

“What you did was complicate things. I had it under control, dickhead!”

“Oh! Well excuse the ever living fuck out of me! Is being choked the fuck out your version of ‘under control’?”

“No! But now I’m going to have to arrest you for homicide. God damnit!” She bends over to pick up her purse and begins to rummage through it. 

“What in the actual fuck? Arrest me?!”

“I’m a cop, you idiot. Hands behind your back.” 

Fucking shit, I’m so fucked. This can’t be happening. She pulls out her badge and gun, motioning for me to turn around. She’s significantly smaller than I am, yet she man-handles me with ease; it’s rather impressive. She starts to read me my rights as the handcuffs are slapped on my wrists. Fuck.

We pass the girls on the way out. Amber is in absolute hysterics, running over to me and groveling at my feet. 

“No!! You can’t take him! He’s the only one who protects us!” She wails as Sherry drags her away. What a fucking shit show. 

“Keep moving,” she says, pulling on my cuffs and roughly pushing my head down. Fuck, this bitch is strong. If this situation weren’t so fucked up, I’d be hard as fucking steel right now. But little Negan and I both know the situation is FUBAR. 

We get to a blacked out ‘69 Camaro parked inconspicuously behind an abandoned factory. She opens the passenger side, takes off my cuffs, and tells me to get in the car. Under normal circumstances I’d tell her to go fuck herself, but the gun she’s pointing in my direction is anything but normal circumstance, so I obey her like a little bitch. 

As she turns to face me in the car and I see the laceration on her cheek has already started to bruise. She pays it no mind like a fucking champ. It’s incredible—her tarnished makeup and bloodied cheek do little to disturb from her natural beauty. I have to make a conscious effort not to stare and seem like a fucking creep. 

“I’m going to ask you three questions and you’re going to answer me. No bullshit. Got it?” She still has her gun out, though it now rests on her lap. 

“Don’t really have much of a choice now, do I?” I answer caustically as she begins her interrogation.

“Why did you kill that man?” 

“You were there, weren’t you?” 

She exhales loudly and rolls her eyes, clearly exasperated. Then she cocks the gun in my direction.

“Alright! Fuck. He was clearly going to kill you, so I beat him to the punch.” 

“Why did that hooker say that you’re the only one that protects them?” 

“I’m not a pimp if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Answer the question!” 

“In case you haven’t noticed, the streets are flooded with shit. Do you know how many rapes happen here? Not just to the hookers, but regular girls walking home from work or school. Robbery up the fucking ass. Addicts roaming around like it’s a fucking free-for-all. It’s a goddamned zoo. And the cherry on top of this shit sundae is the fucking Skulls. They’re the ones who brought this all here. They’re the ones I’m after.” 

“How many Skulls have you killed?”

“Not enough.” 

She lays her gun back down on her lap and her head falls back onto the headrest as the silence between us becomes deafening. 

“Why do you care what happens here?” Her voice is almost a whisper.

“Sorry, doll. Looks like you’re fresh out of questions.” I reach for the door handle to leave, but she stops me, placing her hand delicately on my arm. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity coursing through my body. 

“I want to help you.” The imploring look behind her piercing eyes is almost convincing enough for me to stay. Almost.

“I’m not interested,” I scoff defensively.

“Please, hear me out. I’m not really out here in a professional capacity, like I’ve made it seem. My mission is more personal in nature.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Seriously? It means I’m not technically supposed to be out here turning tricks undercover, numb nuts.”

“And your mission is...”

“None of your business, but our target is the same. Clearly the angle I chose was one that put me at a disadvantage, so I can’t do this alone. I’m no longer satisfied with due process. This requires more extreme measures. I’m offering you inside information on the location of Skull members in exchange for your skills and protection from the law.”

I took a lengthy pause, weighing my options. Really, there was only one choice. I wouldn’t put it past her to arrest me if I didn’t agree to her offer. I was naturally inclined to believe this type of shit was too good to be true, or maybe I was just being a paranoid fuck. Still, my interest was piqued. 

“Why should I trust you?” 

“Because I’m just as sick of this shit as you are.” Her big brown eyes stare right into my dark soul; the genuine exhaustion behind them mirrors my own. Both of us have been through some terrible shit, and neither of us can rest until these fuckers have paid with their lives. 

“Fuck, this is insane. I’ll do it, but on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“I work alone. I don’t need you seeing the shit I’m going to do to these motherfuckers. It’ll give you nightmares.”

“Not a fucking chance. Not only do I want to witness every single one you brutally massacre, but I will be killing a select few myself. My way, or the deal is off.” 

God damn, this shit just got real interesting. Beauty, strength, and bloodthirsty to boot. 

“Jesus, doll. You are fucking vicious, aren’t you?” She meets my lecherous gaze with her own. 

“Like you wouldn’t believe. So do we have a deal?” She spits into her hand, extending it my way with a devilish grin. Spitting into my own palm, I meet her handshake, sealing our alliance.

“It’s a fucking deal, Vicious.”

“It’s Sydney, actually. But you can call me Syd.”

“Negan,” I say, still shaking her hand like a total fucking dingus. 

“Alright, Negan. We start tomorrow.”


	2. The Hollow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is super appreciated :)

For the first time in years, I wake up before my alarm. I feel invigorated and alive. I start my day with a renewed sense of purpose. My mind is clear and focused on the complete annihilation of the Skulls. Don’t get me wrong, all my previous kills were plenty satisfying, but there was never a guarantee that I’d get my kill. I was lucky if I got one at all on some nights. My motivation never wavered, I just lacked objectivity. But now with Syd’s help, I’d be fucking unstoppable. 

The plan was to meet up at her apartment and go over the details of our master plan. I was surprised that she would be so trusting considering that she’s witnessed what I’m capable of. It’s a ballsy move on her end. Truth is, Syd is just as capable of brutality as I am. Shit, she’d probably pop a cap my ass before I could even reach for my knife. Maybe even pin me to the ground and manhandle me again. I wouldn’t be against it. I can’t pinpoint if it’s the impending thrill of murder or seeing Syd that’s got me so worked up. Whatever the cause, it feels fucking amazing. Adjusting myself in my pants, I get on my bike and head toward The Bronx. 

As I ride through the streets I’m appalled by the sights before me. The same pervasive filth that permeates the night is alive and well in broad daylight, which is even more disturbing. The Skulls have their boot on the neck of the entire borough. Witnessing it only stokes the raging fire of revenge within me. Reaffirming that what I’m doing is necessary, if not vital. 

I pull up to the address she gave me and park my bike. It feels like a completely different neighborhood even though it’s only a few blocks out from Hunters Point. New York City has a way of doing that. Every block breathes a life of its own, like cities within cities. None of the grime has made its way here. Though it’s far from idyllic, it’s definitely safer. She buzzes me in and I make my way up to her floor, growing more impatient with every step. As I ascend, my ears are met with a jarring symphony of crying babies, Latin music, and raucous yelling. I get to Syd’s door right as I’m about to lose it. I don’t know how she can live, let alone sleep, with all this crazy shit going on. I knock a little harder than I should but I’m fucking frazzled at this point. 

“Hey, Negan. Come on in.” She greets me with a warm smile, making her dimples more pronounced. 

I hadn’t noticed them last night. Come to think of it, I hadn’t noticed a lot of things about her last night. I shamelessly admire her beauty in its genuine form. It was striking but not intimidating. She had a girl next door kind of charm about her. I’m surprised to find that we are dressed alike, clad in dark jeans and leather jackets. My eyes lingered on the alluring curves of her body. After a while, I realize I’ve been gawking long enough for it to be weird as shit. Quit staring at her, you fucking dingus, and say something. I panic, struggling to find the right words to kill this awkward silence. “Hey, doll. You uh... you look different today.” I visibly cringe at my terrible choice of words. Why am I acting like such a fucking pussy right now?

“Thanks?” She says, her brow arched in a puzzled expression. Real smooth, asshole. 

As I cross the threshold past Syd, I take in my surroundings. Her apartment is extremely cramped. It barely passes for a studio. Despite her modest accommodations, the tiny space is far from depressing. There are a few framed photographs hanging on the paint-chipped walls and string lights draped ornately across the ceiling. She’s got so many houseplants in here you’d think it’s a goddamn greenhouse. Her personal touches add some much-needed vibrancy to the bleak space.

I scan the room for a chair or couch to sit on but I only find a bed. I curiously point to it and she nods her head in silent approval then turns toward a chaotic stack of boxes up against the wall. The mattress dips as I take my seat and watch her delve through the boxed contents. 

She walks back over to me looking satisfied as she carries a huge stack of files. I pat the mattress and wiggle my eyebrows up and down suggestively just to fuck with her. She rolls her eyes and has a seat next to me, hiding a small smirk in an attempt to remain professional. 

“Okay, so as promised I’m going to let you in on some sensitive information about the Skulls. I know you’re used to handling things your way, but if we want to be successful it’s important we get organized.” Syd hands me a folder. I open it up, meticulously scanning the pages of profiles, locations, and crime scene photos within its buff-colored sleeves. While the information is certainly valuable, I can’t help but feel like there was a subtle jab cloaked within her words. The idea of her thinking I’m incompetent sets me off. 

“So what, are you saying I’m fucking disorganized or something?” I snap indignantly.

She looks up at me, unfazed by my sudden outburst. 

“Yes. I think you’re sloppy and arrogant. Both are qualities that pose a major threat to our lives and this objective if you don’t get that shit under control. I won’t have you fucking this up because your fragile masculinity can’t handle a little criticism. Now, can we please continue without you losing your shit and throwing another tantrum?” Her patronizing no-bullshit delivery only adds insult to injury, but she was fucking right. My style of doing things would not fly with the beast we are up against. 

“What-the-fuck-ever...” I mumble under my breath as I return to mindlessly perusing the file before me. 

“That’s what I thought. So, there are over 50 Skull members. They are divided between 3 cliques. Each one runs their own section of Hunters Point focusing on recruitment, drug trafficking, and extortion. They also control the smaller gangs in the area, taking a cut of their resources and profits. Their leader goes by Moreno. He’s an evasive son of a bitch. Most members have never even seen him. Once a month the high-ranking Skulls gather for an intimate meeting. There’s about 10 of them, including Moreno, that attend. That’s our money-shot. Problem is, no one knows where this meeting takes place. We are going to take them out one clique at a time until someone gives up the location of the meeting. Once we have it, we light those fuckers up.” Her morbid words were offset by her lively tone. This shit excited her in the same sick way it thrilled me. 

“Goddamn I like the sound of that shit! Just tickles my fucking balls. There’s just one tiny detail you seem to have overlooked, doll. When I kill, it’s one body at a time, maybe two on a good night. It’s not a bunch of dead fucking bodies popping up overnight. That shit is going to look pretty fucking suspicious. And you call me sloppy...” 

“Because you are. You kill your victims the exact same way every single time. Half the time they’re found in the same damn alley. It’s so predictable. Then you go and blab about it to the hookers, leaving witnesses. You’re arrogant to think no one has caught on to you, but I have. And for your information, I secured an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. The bodies won’t be ‘popping up’ out of anywhere because they will be disposed of on-site. That is, only after we torture and execute them mercilessly. No one will suspect shit because, unlike you, I know what the fuck I’m doing. I wouldn’t underestimate me if I were you, Negan. I am smarter than you, tenacious as a motherfucker, and I am not afraid of a goddamn thing. Don’t you ever come at me again, you fucking one-trick pony.” She’s out of breath and in my face by the time she’s done. Fists clenched and ready to brawl. I was absolutely stunned and at a loss for words. I didn’t know if I should fuck her into the mattress or run for my goddamned life, but I fucking like it. I fucking like her. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, doll. You’re the baddest motherfucker I have ever fucking met.” My twisted compliment is rewarded with a gleaming smile, dimples and all. If that’s all I had to do to earn more of those, I’d compliment her tirelessly. 

“I’m flattered, but I mean it, Negan. I need to know I have your full trust and cooperation. Without it, this won’t work.” She commands earnestly, shifting the mood from playful to serious. 

“You’ve got it, Vicious. I won’t fuck this up, I promise. It’s too important. To both of us,” I vow looking into her expectant eyes, fighting the strong desire to reach out and touch her. To feel her soft caramel skin beneath my calloused hands. But I didn’t trust myself to cross that line with her. My nature was too turbulent like hers. 

“That means everything. Thank you.” She smiles at me with sincere appreciation then places her hand on my arm. As it rests there I feel a sense of calm wash over me. I’m grateful for the long sleeve I’m wearing for hiding the goosebumps beneath it. The physical proof of her effect on me. I close my eyes briefly, leaning into her touch before I can gather up the strength to look at her. Unsure of what I’ll find there if I do. She lets go of me before I ever get the chance. I’m more relieved than disappointed when it’s over. There’s a comfortable silence between us before she clears her throat and returns to the conversation. 

“Now that we’ve got a plan we need to talk methods. I know you prefer your knife, but how good are you with a gun?”

“I mean, I’ve shot one before...” 

“So, not good. Doesn’t surprise me. You have any plans for the rest of the day?” She asks mischievously.

“I’m guessing I don’t anymore.” 

“Nope! We’re going to the shooting range to see just how bad of a shot you are.” She yanks me up by the arm excitedly and pulls me toward the door. How she can go through such a range of emotions within a matter of minutes is a mystery to me, like the rest of her. 

“Can we at least take my bike? I’d like to restore some dignity after that tongue lashing you gave me earlier.” I’m playfully dragging behind her, making her work harder as she lugs me out of the building without breaking a sweat.

“Aww, is your ego bruised, killer?” She says to me in a babying tone before breaking into a chuckle. The sound of her infectious laughter makes me break character momentarily as a smirk warms my stoic features. 

“Laugh it up, hooker. Let’s get this shit-show on the road before I change my mind,” I teased her. 

She lets out another laugh before flipping me off and walking toward my bike. 

It’s nice to be able to be a dick and not elicit tears from delicate sensibilities. She’s a tough chick. A fucking badass. And I’ll admit it, I like when she puts me in my place. I’ve never met someone who had the balls to step to me that way. It ignites something virile in me that has been dormant for too long. 

I find myself stealing glances at her often. Syd doesn’t seem to mind much. She’ll flash me a coy smile when she catches me or just flips me off instead. I can’t figure her out for the life of me, but I desperately want to. 

“No freaking way! You ride a Triumph? Okay, now I’m excited. I thought for sure you’d have one of those gaudy overcompensating-for-something bikes most dudes your age ride.” I can tell she’s real proud of herself for that shot to my nuts. Part of me wonders if she enjoys being an asshole as much as I do. We’re a fucked up pair of lunatics. 

“Fuck. You. I happen to have impeccable style,” I gloat, tugging on the lapels of my leather jacket. 

“Eh, it’s ok.” She shrugs unenthusiastically, wincing to stifle more laughter at my expense.

“Get on the fucking bike, Syd,” I flatly remark, thrusting the spare helmet in her direction. She climbs on and straddles me from behind. I’m caught off guard by the proximity but it’s not unwelcome. Especially when she wraps her arms around me. I fight the thoughts of her legs wrapped around me in other ways. 

“Ready!” She belts out excitedly, breaking my filthy train of thought.

“Hold on tight, doll,” and don’t let go. Her grip around my waist tightens slightly at my words. In a moment of faltering, I place my gloved hand over hers. I’m unable to suppress the urge to touch her, no matter how short-lived or chaste the moment. I press her hands into my chest like a brand. The motion causes her body to jolt closer to mine. I feel her chest rising and falling rapidly in unison with mine. I’m overcome with a feeling somewhere between panic and excitement. Its presence paralyzes me in terror. One of her dainty fingers comes to brush over the back of my hand, delicately caressing the black leather covering my skin. Her touch shocks me back into reality and I remove my hand swiftly, shaking off whatever the fuck just happened. I feel Syd stiffen and correct her posture behind me. I need to get a hold of myself. 

The drive to the shooting range is short but helps clear my mind. I can’t afford to get involved with this girl, not when there’s so much at stake. When we arrive, Syd gets off the bike and heads into the building without a word or even a look in my direction. I’m unsure if she’s pissed at me or just eager to get inside. Good, maybe if she ignores me I won’t do something stupid and regrettable. I stall outside for a bit before trailing in after her. 

The shooting range is seedy, to say the least. She’s talking to the guy at the counter, getting us set up. I don’t like the way he’s looking at her like she’s a piece of meat. He’s practically salivating over the dusty glass case his elbows rest on. Fucking disgusting hillbilly-looking motherfucker. I come up behind Syd and she coldly side-eyes me before returning her attention to the guns. She’s transfixed by the weapons on display in the same way other women would be about flashy jewelry. I move closer to her as she bites her lip, contemplating which gun to choose. 

“Let me get two P226 handguns with 20 rounds each,” she said, pointing at the gun adorned wall. The drooler, whose name turned out to be Eugene (because of fucking course his mullet-wearing ass name would be Eugene) led us to the practice range where Syd and I had our own firing lanes and targets. Still ignoring me, she busied herself tying up her long dark hair and putting on her muffs. I pick up my gun and inspect it closely. The cool metal and girthy handle felt good in my hand. I could definitely work with this. I look up to find Syd already aiming at the target with a fierce look behind her eyes. Her stance is powerful and full of sinister intent. Without hesitation, she fires 4 consecutive rounds into the target in quick succession. She hit the jugular, heart, and the head twice with deadly precision in the blink of an eye. She turns toward me with a euphoric afterglow, as if the action had a pleasurable effect on her. When our eyes meet her demeanor returns to being guarded and defensive again. Yep, she’s definitely pissed at me. 

“Your turn,” she scoffs, challenging me.

“Here goes fucking nothing,” I gulp, bringing the handgun up to aim at my target with uncertainty. I take one shot and miss completely. I can see, more than hear, Syd laughing in my periphery. I raise the weapon up to my line of sight and fire again, this time hitting the shoulder. It’s an improvement but I still feel inferior next to her. 

“You’re holding your breath and it’s screwing with your shot. Take a breath, focus on the target, then breathe out and pull the trigger,” she offers, seeing how frustrated I’ve become. I take aim again but she stops me before I can pull the trigger. 

“You need to relax,” she softly emphasizes, coming to stand behind me. She laces her hands over mine, correcting my grip on the gun to help me aim properly. Content with my stance, she lets her hands slide up my forearms, slowly coming to rest on my biceps. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, focusing on the peaceful feeling of her presence. I blink my eyes open, exhale, and take my shot. The bullet goes right between the eyes of my target, leaving a smoking 9mm hole in its wake. I turn to face her in total disbelief that I’d actually done it. She’s elated, jumping up and down in celebration. 

“You did it! See! It’s not that hard,” she praised, playfully smacking my chest. I grab her by the wrist and roughly pull her into me. The adrenaline coursing through my veins clouded my better judgment. I expected to see fear or even shock in her expression but instead, I found full-blown lust. Fuck it. I pull the trigger and crash my lips onto hers in a passionate kiss. She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me in closer, moaning when my hands travel across her waist and down the small of her back. The line had been crossed and I couldn’t be bothered to give a single fuck anymore. She bites down on my lip, drawing blood. The metallic taste making its presence known as our tongues battle for dominance. I kiss her like my life fucking depends on it, as she returned the same rough fervor. After a while, I pull away resting my forehead on hers as we catch our breath. I was so caught up in the moment I’d failed to notice the furrowed expression taking over her features. 

“Yeah... we probably shouldn’t have done that,” she speaks half-heartedly, both her hands lingering on my chest. 

I let her go and run my hands through my hair wondering if kissing her had been a huge mistake. 

“You’re probably right. But you can’t tell me you didn’t want it as badly as I did, doll.” I admit, hoping to coax some solidarity from her. I can feel the moment slipping through my fingers the longer it takes her to answer. 

“That’s the problem, Negan. We can’t do this again. Our focus should be solely on the plan. Anything else will just get in the way of that, regardless of how badly we want it.”

“I don’t know about you, but it’s going to be pretty fucking hard to pretend like this didn’t mean shit.” I pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers, growing exasperated by whole situation.

“Then try harder,” she answers coldly. “Look, I’m gonna catch a cab home. I’ll text you in a couple days, let this shit blow over.” She turned around and walked away leaving me deflated and full of self-doubt. I can’t believe I did something so fucking reckless and impulsive. It was a lapse in judgment. A moment of weakness. To think she would want anything to do with a price of shit like me was fucking delusional. I need to blow off some steam, forget this shit ever happened. 

It’s dark out when I leave the shooting range. I’m already in the neighborhood so I lurk around, see if there’s any shit I can get into. I’m missing my knife but my fists will be just as effective. I set my sights on an asshole breaking into a store. I watch him struggle with the lock and chain for a while, debating if it’s worth going through with this. My mind flashes back to Syd. To how undeniably electric that kiss had been. How she brushed it off and told me to forget it, that nothing would come of it. I feel myself growing angrier the more I replay the memory. I resented myself for being so weak and powerless. I decide that fucking this punk up isn’t worth it but it’s the only thing that will purge this heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. By the time I’m done with him, his face is unrecognizable and he’s barely breathing. My knuckles are busted in more places than there are cracks in his skull. I know my face had to be covered in his blood, I’d felt the red mist kiss my skin with every heaving blow I delivered. It was a high I don’t think I would ever stop chasing.

I walk to my bike feeling lighter, no longer burdened by my regrettable indiscretion. Then I remember how close I am to her apartment. Where was the harm in a little drive by? Regrettable choices seemed to be the theme of the day after all. The closer I get to her building the more nauseous I get. I’m fucking disgusted with myself. I almost back out before realizing I had arrived at my desired destination. I cut the engine and sit idly for a solid minute before I look up to her fifth-floor window. When I do, I see the warm glow of her silhouette filtered through her sheer curtain. I follow the outline of her curves as she walks past the window, noting how she lingers after each trip across the room. She’s pacing back and forth in an almost pensive way, stopping only to rest her head in her hands in defeat. I wonder what she’s warring within her head. 

Suddenly I remember her words: try harder. Fuck. What am I doing here? Torturing myself for nothing. There is bigger shit looming on the horizon. Shit that we could not afford to let slip through our grasp. I rev the engine and speed off toward home. Alright, Syd, I’ll keep my promise. I’ll try harder.

**Author's Note:**

> FEEDBACK is super appreciated so drop me a line. Let me know what you think :)  
> Thanks for reading!


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